


The Lives of Others

by Prochytes



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Inhumans (TV 2017)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 17:38:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13392876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prochytes/pseuds/Prochytes
Summary: It takes work to refound Utopia, especially when Utopia wasn’t ever really one to start with.





	The Lives of Others

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for _Inhumans_ to the end of S1 and _Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D._ to the end of S2. Dark themes and some violence.

It takes work to refound Utopia, especially when Utopia wasn’t ever really one to start with. 

Attilan on Earth rose slowly, beneath the authentic blue of the Terran sky, and, at night, the bleached bone disc of yesterday’s domain. The air grew heavy with sawdust and the burnt tang of brick. More rôles; fewer rules. People were too busy or spent to brood. 

Auran wondered whether Karnak had planned the building schedules to achieve that. 

The erstwhile Royal Guard became Security, by the unspoken general acknowledgement that Inhumans should have more pressing worries than each other. The weeks passed in a blur of rotas and recruitment and reconnaissance. Auran, in what spare time she could find, tended to scout out the verdure of this old new world alone. Spare bodies, after all, were in short supply. Solo work fell most reasonably to one who was (mostly, fairly, still) indestructible. Sound doctrine drove the solitary runs. 

It was almost true. “Almost true” was a cement that Attilan used a lot for its rebuilding. Auran had her doubts as to how much structural weight it could be expected to support. 

***

Auran had discovered a favourite beach, to which she often returned after her scouting missions. Sand and dappled shadow were bounded by a white fierce thresh of foam. The beach was secluded and hard to find, alike from Attilan and human habitation. Auran was therefore surprised when, late one afternoon, she emerged from the tree-line, and found a woman standing on the strand.

Similarities sharpened her discomfiture. The stranger was young, dark-haired, of about Auran’s own height and build. Taut muscles discreet beneath a black form-fitting cat-suit. As Auran approached, she saw that someone – the dark-haired woman, presumably – had described a ragged circle in the sand. The stranger stood silent at its centre. 

“Who are you?” asked Auran. Only the surf stirred itself to answer. “I said: ‘Who are you?’”

She stepped into the circle. The woman remained unresponsive until Auran halted face-to-face with her. Then, she dropped into a guard stance; gave Auran a startled moment to follow suit; and attacked. 

Sunlight reddened to blood as the two sable-suited women fought back and forth across the circle, their gasps of momentary triumph or travail swallowed by the hiss of the estranging sea. The stranger was strong, fast, resourceful. Pain folded back upon itself in patterns on the sand.

At last – too weary, any longer, to punch or kick or grip – the antagonists swayed once more face-to-face at the circle’s centre. The stranger drew a laboured breath. She nodded, still voiceless, at Auran, and dropped her guard. With faltering steps, she walked off into the woods. Auran was alone once more on the shadowed strand. 

Reluctant to be found less than her opponent, she stayed on her feet until she made it back to Attilan.

***

Auran sought out Karnak on her return. She found him sitting cross-legged in his new garden. 

“We have a problem,” she said. 

“We do?”

“A human woman – my equal in combat. She entered the forest somewhere to the north.”

“Draw, huh?” There was an intricate pattern of whorls and loops inscribed into the sand before Karnak’s feet. He pondered it, and added another line. “That’s how the fight between you two usually plays out.”

Auran frowned down at him. “You were aware of this woman?”

“I invited her. How did you think that she knew where and when to challenge you?”

“She tried to kill me.”

“If Daisy wanted to kill you, you’d be dead, although you’d probably walk it off.” Auran tried not to flinch at “probably”. Karnak looked up. “There are ice-packs over there, beside the tree.”

Auran retrieved a pack, and held it gratefully to her throbbing cheek. For a moment, she felt her power stir within her ( _This needn’t hurt; I can make it go away_ ). She caught herself. She couldn’t squander her waning reserves on bruises.

“Why did you bring that woman here?” she asked. 

“Daisy has information that concerns you.”

“She didn’t seem all that inclined to share it.”

“There was a reason for that.”

“Is the information something good?”

“I’m… not sure.” For all the upheavals (several self-inflicted) that Auran had lately experienced – insurrection, Earth-fall, the twilight of her powers – there was still a special chill that accompanied the spectacle of Karnak in doubt. “Go back to the beach, Auran. Talk to Daisy. She’s calmer now.” He looked back down at the pattern. “Usually.” 

***

The sun was on the horizon when Auran returned to the shore. The stranger – Daisy – was sitting on a rock beside the sea.

Auran walked up to her, and wordlessly held out an ice-pack. Daisy stared at the pack for a moment and then, with a nod, accepted it to press against her shoulder. She patted a flat space on the rock beside her. Auran sat down. The two women watched the long indulgence of the sunset. 

“You throw a mean left hook,” said Auran, eventually.

“You’re not so shabby yourself.” 

“Why did you attack me?”

“Mickey Lee.”

Auran looked puzzled. “Who?”

“Mickey Lee was a family guy. He had a wife – her name’s Megan – and three daughters. His eldest starts at U.H. Mānoa in the fall. Fond of a beer; popular down his favourite bar – it’s called ‘Al’s’; they run a quiz most Thursday nights. Might have had Seasonal Affective Disorder; he could be kinda cranky when the nights drew in. Never missed a mortgage payment in his life.” Daisy turned to look Auran in the eyes. “He invaded your personal space, and you snapped his neck.”

Auran sighed. “The bus-driver.”

“The bus-driver. For what you did to him, and to his family, I owed you pain.”

“Who was he to you?”

“I’m an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.. That’s not a question you ever have to ask.”

“You’ve killed men yourself, I think. Skills like ours aren’t just for show.”

“I have. Not all of the blood on my hands deserved to be there. That keeps me awake at night. But never just because a man was in my way.”

“I’m sorry.” Auran bowed her head. “There was a time when I thought that I was exempt from the rules that apply to others.”

“That’s no excuse.”

“No; it’s not. I’m trying to be better, now.”

Daisy looked back out at the sunset. “What I have to tell you may not help with that.”

***

A lone gull skimmed the sanguine surface of the sea. Daisy watched it climb again to the untroubled sky. 

“When I was a girl," she said, “before the Change, I was so sure that secrets wanted to be free. I haven’t been that girl in quite some time.”

Auran twisted her head sharply. “The Change? Do you mean…?”

Daisy thrust the flat of her right hand towards the waves. The waters reared up at the gesture, to crash back once more in foam and sunset flame.

“Yeah – that’s what I mean,” she said. “I command vibrations, like your King, or First Citizen, or whatever he is now. Except that I’m tidier, and have an off-switch.”

“You’re one of us.”

“I’m Inhuman. I am _not_ one of you.”

“You could have bested me easily, with a gift like yours. Why didn’t you use it?”

“I’m more than just my power. So are you.”

“I hope so.” It was getting harder, now, for Auran to make out Daisy’s profile. Night was falling; the day was almost done. “What is this secret that you fear so much?”

“There was a woman,” Daisy had stiffened her back, “a woman who could recover from anything. Disease, age, injury, it made no difference. But the reserves she called upon to do that were finite, and, in the end, she used them up – long ago, so long ago. When they were gone for good, she made a discovery: that she could fuel her gift on the lives of others. That woman’s name was Jiaying. She was my mother.” Daisy’s eyes glinted in the dying light. “The power she had is yours.”

Auran recoiled. “That’s not possible. I haven’t taken life. Well – yes, obviously I have.” The bus had smelt of plastic and turning milk. “But not like that. Never like that.”

“You’ve never had to try – so far.” Daisy pointed at Auran’s bruised cheek. “But the cupboard’s almost bare now, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Auran swallowed. “Why did you come to tell me this?”

“My mother went down a dark path before she died. But over her long life, she helped a lot of people come to terms with their gifts. I honour that about her, if nothing else. When your friend with the tats reached out to me, and told me what you needed to learn about your power, I knew that I had to help you, if I could. “

“Compassion. Karnak found your flaw.”

“You think that that’s a flaw?”

Auran breathed the salt air. “Not any more.”

***

Karnak was still sitting in his garden. Auran watched him, for a while, as he contemplated the pattern in the sand. 

“I miss the chess-board,” she said. 

“It wasn’t good for me.” Karnak modified a contour with his thumb. “It gave me too much credit. We’re all players, and all pawns.” He looked up. “You spoke with Daisy.”

“Yes. She’s a good woman.”

“She is.” Karnak folded his hands in his lap. “What about you?”

Auran thought about mad Mordis in his mask. “I am Death.”

“Maybe. What do you make of that?”

Auran’s lips twisted. “The great Karnak needs a second pair of eyes?”

Karnak snorted. “‘The great Karnak’, as you call him, should have worked out much, much sooner that ‘correct’ isn’t always the same as ‘right’. I value your opinion.”

“Did you work out the… other aspects of my power?”

“Yes – and then our burgeoning Terran contacts led me to Daisy.”

“You could have told me all of that yourself.”

Karnak shrugged. “Daisy had more personal experience. And – let’s face it – Earth owed you an ass-kicking.”

“It did.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“I don’t know whether I can.” Auran sat down beside Karnak and stared at the pattern. She composed her thoughts. “Daisy told me that, in the beginning, her mother only… fed on the willing, or those who truly deserved it. She carried Inhuman traditions across the ages. If our people are to survive, here, that’s a rôle in which I could be useful. But Jiaying died – eventually – mad and cruel, and she started out a better woman than me. If our traditions are worth anything at all, they won’t need me to preserve them.”

“Also, there’s such a thing as books.”

“Yes.” Auran turned her head to look at Karnak. “Life was simpler when the two of us thought we were invincible.”

“A fine pair we made.” Karnak rose to his feet. “I, shackled in my chains of consequence, and very pleased with myself for being so. You, thinking that no consequence could touch you. We’re better as what we have become.”

“Yes. We are.” Auran stood up as well. “Can you help me find out about a human family? We both know that I have something to atone for.”

“I can, and I will, but not tonight.” Across the garden, Auran heard the slow, slurring sound of shuffling hooves. Karnak sighed. “He’s fretful at the moment; I should go to him. You’re not the only one who needs to make amends. Good night, Auran.”

“Good night.”

Auran loitered in the garden, after Karnak left. She watched as darkling Attilan kindled into light. Not a Utopia. Never a Utopia. 

But maybe a little less unlike one than before. 

FINIS


End file.
